


Scattered

by hypnoshatesme



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gertrude has like 2 lines, Hurt/Comfort, I think?, M/M, Somewhat, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme
Summary: Michael does not merge with the Spiral, but neither does he come away unscathed.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 153





	Scattered

It had been over a month since Gerry had been to the Institute. There was little point coming in with Gertrude on her trip and he had been kept busy hunting down a Leitner in the north. Part of him was glad to be back and looking forward to drop by the Institute.

Gerry knew that the excitement he felt when entering the building had little to do with the report he was carrying for Gertrude. Gerry had missed the assistant archivist she had decided to take with her. 

When Gerry had first seen the tall blond in the Institute he’d been sceptical. He looked somewhat out of place, though Gerry couldn't really put his finger on why.

Maybe it was his round, open face and the welcoming smile he'd given Gerry from day one, despite him being clearly nervous. Maybe it was how fussy he was about helping everybody, which had him stay overtime on a daily basis because much of the staff took advantage of it. Sometimes, when Michael's smile slipped as he was leaning over a file - and Gerry just happened to look over at him, which he found himself doing a lot - the exhaustion from his long nights working reflected in his face for a moment. Maybe it was how, despite that, Michael accepted every favour asked of him with a grateful smile on his lips. 

It was one of those instances that Gerry couldn't help stepping in, pointing out the fact that Michael was visibly busy and that, while an assistant, it wasn't his job to do everybody else's work, too. It didn't escape Gerry how uncomfortable Michael had looked and Gerry did apologise, as soon as Michael’s colleague was out of the room. 

Michael had looked at Gerry in surprise, "Thank you.", he had said timidly, "You...it wasn't necessary, really."

He had sounded painfully apologetic and Gerry had raised an eyebrow, "Yes it was. That's your third coffee. And from the face you make every time you take a sip you don't even _like_ coffee.", his voice took on a slightly teasing tone at the end, the corner of his mouth turning up into a small grin.

Michael just stared at him for a moment before chuckling. It was a nice sound. 

"Thank you.", he said again, with more warmth and less nerves in his voice.

Gerry had suddenly felt awkward, unused to being addressed in such a tone by anyone. Quickly, he excused himself and when he returned a few minutes later with a steaming mug of tea for Michael, latter was so surprised he dropped the files in his hand. A blush spread on his face as he scrambled to pick them up, apologising for his clumsiness. Gerry set down the tea, saying that he should be the one apologising for spooking the other man, and bending down to help Michael pick up the files, despite the blond’s protest.

Ever since that instance they had gotten along fine, both enjoying the other’s company. Michael started getting Gerry coffee as a thank you for his consideration that day and he wouldn't hear of how everything beyond the first coffee was more thanks than necessary. He could be stubborn like that, despite his soft spoken nature. Gerry liked that.

It still had taken Gerry some time to build up the courage to ask Michael out. Michael had agreed but they had only been on two dates before Michael left for his trip. Part of Gerry felt silly at how his heart fluttered when he entered the assistant's office again. 

It was empty. 

Gerry furrowed his brows. It wasn't that odd for Michael to be out, searching for information for Gertrude or doing some odd job for somebody - he never quit saying yes to everybody - but the problem was that the working space looked distinctly unused. 

The idea made Gerry uneasy and he didn't have the luxury to brush it aside considering his line of work. And Michael's. Gerry checked his phone again. The message he'd sent Michael earlier was still unread. He continued on to the archivist's office. Gertrude was, as usual, at her desk sorting through statements.

“Where’s your assistant?”, Gerry asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

“He’s unable to work.”, came the answer in Gertrude's usual matter-of-fact voice. She didn't look up from what she was doing.

Gerry raised an eyebrow, “What happened?”

“Did you come all the way just to ask about my assistant?”

Her tone put Gerry on edge, “Gertrude, did...where is he?”

“To my knowledge, at home.”, she said with a finality that Gerry knew meant he wouldn't get more out of her.

Gerry didn’t like that tone at all. He put the notes he had brought for Gertrude onto her table with more force than necessary, before leaving her office and walking out of the Institute in general. He dialed Michael’s number while making his way to Michael's apartment.

  
  


Gerry had brought Michael home once, after a particularly late night at the Institute. That night had involved something breaking out or into the storage room long after most others had already gone home. Both Michael and Gerry were still following up on a statement when they heard the noise. Michael was instantly on edge, his skittish nature getting the better of him. Not for the first time Gerry wondered why he was working there.

Gerry had told him to stay while he took care of it, but Michael refused to let him go alone. Or maybe he didn’t want to be left alone knowing there was something lose in the Institute. In the end, he followed Gerry closely, holding his breath for most of the way as they descended the stairs. 

All lights had gone out as soon as they came closer to where the noise seemed to be coming from. Michael froze as they were plunged into darkness. Gerry, on the other hand, moved quickly, muscle memory taking over as he heard the noise come closer. It was a quick fight and barely twenty minutes had passed when Gerry and Michael were gathering their things to leave for the night after.

Michael had made sure that Gerry was, indeed, unharmed.

Gerry had already noticed how shaken Michael was on their way up. His movements had been stiff as he took the stairs, always careful to stick as close to Gerry as he dared. Some of the tension had left when they reached the well-lit office again, but it clearly wasn't gone completely as Michael suddenly turned towards Gerry with big eyes, asking whether he was okay, if he needed to get the first aid kit, while also apologising for him freezing and being utterly useless and probably being in his way. He took in Gerry all the while, clearly itching to get closer so he could really check if he was truly as unscathed as he looked, his hands coming up as if to reach out, only for him to let them fall to his sides again, clenching into fists.

Gerry let him fuss, only speaking up when Michael took a moment to catch his breath, "I'm fine. And you did fine, too, Michael. It's okay. Let's call it a night, though...We can finish this tomorrow, okay?", he tried for a calming, reassuring tone, but Michael didn't look too convinced as he nodded after a moment of hesistation.

They started packing up and Gerry saw the shaking of Michael's hands as he started putting away the files to continue tomorrow. Definitley not convinced. At one point, a stray pen lost in the stacks slipped out and hit the floor in a soft thud, making Michael jump with a barely stifled yelp that ended up sounding more like a whimper. That's when Gerry decided he'd be bringing him home.

He had to insist, since the mere suggestion made Michael quickly point out that he was fine, that it was unnecessary, that the offer was kind but there was really no need for Gerry to inconvenience himself . Gerry wasn't having any of it and made some excuse about heading the same way, anyways, which seemed to make it easier for Michael to accept the offer, a relieved sigh escaping his lips as he did, despite his best efforts to hide it.

Nevertheless, the nervous blond kept apologising profusely the whole way, from anything from being the reason they had stayed so late in the first place, to having been unhelpful and for inconveniencing Gerry even further with his presence on his way home. Gerry kept reassuring him it was fine, that everything had worked out, and that he really didn't feel inconvenienced in any way. It seemed to calm Michael's nerves for a few minutes before he remembered to point out that he would really be fine walking home on his own from here, if Gerry would like to go his own way. He really didn't want Gerry to get home even later because of him.

Despite that, Michael kept close as they walked. He was tense and Gerry caught him looking around nervously more than once. His steps would quicken whenever they passed a particularly dark alleyway. Gerry matched his steps, alert but not on edge. By the time they reached the entry to Michael's apartment building, their shoulders were nearly touching.

When Gerry noticed Michael fidgeting more nervously at the prospect of going through the door and into the house by himself, Gerry insisted on bringing him to his apartment door. Michael told him how unnecessary that was, but Gerry saw his shoulders relax ever so slightly. He gave Gerry a shy, grateful smile as they went through the door. 

The goodbye at the door was a bit awkward, neither knowing the appropriate etiquette for 'sort-of-coworker bringing you home after a monster attack'. Michael thanked Gerry repeatedly, saying he would have to come up with something to pay him back for the kindness. Gerry had shook his head, a slight grin on his face.

He knew telling Michael that wasn't necessary was a waste of time, so instead he said, "Looking forward to it, then."

Michael had looked like he had been ready to debate Gerry's dismissal and was now at a loss of words at the unexpected comment he got instead. Gerry grinned, satisfied with himself for surprising Michael. That only made the colour rise into the blond's cheeks, hands nervoulsy raking through his hair. As much as Gerry would have liked to stand there some more, he decided to release Michael from the situation by bidding him goodnight. Michael found his voice again at that and thanked Gerry one last time before dissapearing into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Gerry had stared at that door for a moment, trying to make sense of the disappointment he suddenly felt about being on the other side of it than Michael. He had been deliberately ignoring how his initial curiosity about the archival assistant had turned into something more akin to interest, maybe more. 

On his way home he had realised he could no longer deny it and the next day Gerry had finally asked him out. 

Gerry hadn’t imagined standing in front of that door again. Well, maybe Gerry _had_ imagined it, but under different circumstances. He wasn’t even sure what he intended to do as he stared at the door now. Nerves were getting to him and he couldn't stop worrying his lip. This was out of his comfort zone. He killed monsters and burned books. He rarely stuck around to deal with the humans.

But this was different. Michael wasn't some stranger. Gerry checked his phone again, but the messages he had sent on his way were unread, his calls still unanswered. He had to know whether Michael was okay. Needed to see him. Gerry took a deep breath and rang the bell.

Nothing.

He tried knocking instead, “Michael?”, he called out, “It’s me, Gerry.", he stopped knocking to listen instead. 

Gerry had trained his ears to pick up even the smallest noise over the years but he couldn't make out anything through the door, no matter how much he strained. He tried the bell again. 

Did Gertrude lie? Michael wasn't one to leave in the evening, Gerry knew. Unless whatever had happened made him make an exception. Gerry knocked again, mentally preparing himself to search for him around the local pubs or something. That's where Gerry sometimes found himself after a particularly rough job. It didn't seem like Michael at all but Gertrude's tone had set Gerry off and he couldn't ignore the possibility.

He was wondering if he could maybe break in the door without alerting any of the neighbours when he heard it. Steps. Shuffling, and somewhat irregular, but undoubtedly steps. From the other side of the door.

"Michael? Michael, please open the door.", he tried again, knocking.

The door opened after more shuffling noises, but only enough for Michael to peek through the gap at Gerry. His eyes were clouded, unfocused, as if drunk. A crease formed between his eyes, as if he were struggling to make sense of the goth in front of his door.

Gerry released a breath of relief. Michael was alive and at least in enough of one piece to open the door. That loosened the knot in Gerry's stomach somewhat. 

"Michael.", he breathed, "Are you...are you alright?"

Michael just stared at him. His wide eyes were starting to unsettle Gerry. It was that tingling sensation he got, the dread that something was distinctly wrong, no matter how harmless the situation seemed.

"You...didn't react to my messages.", Gerry swallowed because Michael's empty gaze, his strained expression, was making the tingling get worse by the minute, "You weren't at work. I…I was worried.", he said, voice going soft at the end as his cheeks took on a slight pink colour. Gerry wasn't particularly good at this.

Michael just stared, confused. He was too still.

"Could you...let me in?", something was clearly wrong and Gerry would rather not continue the conversation in the hallway.

Michael seemed to consider, taking Gerry in as best as he could through the narrow gap. There was fear and confusion in those eyes. Gerry knew he would make it worse if he forced his way into the apartment, but Michael's state was still making him consider it as an option as he held that gaze.

After what felt like an eternity Michael stepped away from the door and part of Gerry was sure he'd close it in his face. He didn't. However, he didn't open it further, either, so Gerry carefully stepped forward into the apartment and closed the door behind him.

Michael was standing in front of Gerry, watching him, tense and nervous. Not too unlike how he had been before they got to know each other better. But something was clearly wrong. He kept clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides and Gerry saw that his nails were caked with blood, the palms of his hands punctured by small, half moon shaped wounds. Michael looked thinner than he had before, which was an impressive feat. His cheeks were sunken in, his skin sickly pale. The shadows under his eyes were probably making Gerry's look like nothing, which was alarming. His long hair was a mess, matted and unwashed. The clothes he wore looked like they'd seen better days too and hung from his frame. Maybe they were a size too big, but Gerry still had the distinct feeling Michael hadn't eaten in a while.

"Michael", he started softly, "what happened?"

It was the wrong question to ask, of course, and Gerry mentally kicked himself when Michael flinched, eyes becoming sharp and clear, but only for a moment, only long enough for Gerry to see the terror in them. He took a step towards him and Michael froze, ready to bolt. Gerry sighed, taking a step back again.

"I'm sorry.", Gerry whispered.

He was about to add that Michael didn't have to answer when the other man whispered, "We stopped...t-the Spiral. I w-went...went into the hallway."

Gerry held his breath to understand the shaky whisper that became near indiscernible as Michael’s shoulders started to shake. Michael's voice sounded rough, like he had been screaming or crying. The sound broke something inside of Gerry. The content of what Michael said didn't cheer him up either. 

_Into the hallway_. 

"She sent you through the door?", he asked, trying to contain his anger.

Michael took a moment, struggling to focus on the words, but nodded gingerly, "With a...a map."

The words came out as a sob as his whole body was starting to shake, his eyes were starting to fill with tears as he averted them from Gerry, looking at the floor. He hugged himself, clenched his hands into tight fists again, and Gerry was sure he was further deepening the wounds on his hands. Michael didn't seem to notice. He couldn't stop shaking.

Gerry wanted to help but didnt know what that would entail. He had memories of his father finding him crying when he was still coming to terms with the fact that monsters did exist and that his mother wanted him to run towards them, rather than away. He distinctly remembered only feeling better when his father pulled him into a hug and held him until he could breathe normally again. Something told Gerry that wouldn't be a good idea in Michael's case right now. 

Wrecking his brain for anything else that'd help in this situation he decided to try distraction, "Have you...eaten already?"

Michael froze, the crease between his brows deepening as he tried to make sense of Gerry’s words. He looked uncertain when he spoke up, as if he wasn't sure whether he was answering the right question, "I think..I made...I started something? But when I...I looked back and there was nothing. I think...I p-probably had already finished? I dont..I'm not...not sure."

His voice was small and it was clearly difficult for him to speak. His raspy voice kept breaking but Gerry felt like that wasn't the only reason he had to take frequent breaks. He seemed to struggle to form a coherent sentence, looking lost sometimes, as if he couldn't remember what he was talking about. It hurt to watch.

Gerry sighed, running a hand through his hair,"I haven't yet. I'll order us something, yes?"

Michael nodded slowly, unsure of what exactly was going on. Gerry was starting to feel thoroughly uncomfortable standing in the hall, the way into the apartment blocked by his long-limbed not-quite-boyfriend. Michael seemed less tense by now, at least, and when Gerry gently suggested them going further into the apartment he did move, steps unsure. He kept glancing at Gerry who followed closely, dialing for their food. 

Michael had teased him once, with a bit of genuine worry in his voice, for having so many fast food places saved on his phone. He'd said one day he'd have to cook him something and show him how quick and easy it could be. Maybe when he'd be back from Russia, he had said, a shy, hopeful smile on his lips. Gerry had agreed to it, though he was fairly sure it wouldn't come to it anytime soon now.

Michael stopped in the small kitchen and stared as Gerry placed their order, unsure. The kitchen was clean in a way they only ever are when not in use for a while. There was a dinner table separating it from the living room and Gerry noticed the table was set, but the dishes were unused. 

When Michael nervously followed his gaze he seemed confused by the sight. He went to clean it up but Gerry stopped him, pointing to the phone to indicate they might need it soon anyways. Michael gave an uncertain nod, staring as Gerry finished the call. His eyes might have been unfocused, but Gerry still felt like he was being scrutinized, watched intently, as if something about him might betray the fact that he wasn't really there or wasn't really Gerry.

"You should take care of your hands.", Gerry suggested gently, after silence settled in when he finished the call.

Michael looked confused at that, eyes falling on Gerry’s hands first before he noticed his own were still tight fists. He flinched when he loosened them, but it seemed more of an afterthought, as if he didn’t register the pain properly. He turned around then, disappearing into the small hallway. He came back a little later, hands moist. He watched them cautiously as if they might clench on their own if he dared to let them out of sight. 

When he caught sight of Gerry after raising his eyes again he froze, clearly baffled by the sight. He looked uncertain, like he couldn't decide whether coming closer or staying at a distance was the better idea. Gerry gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Michael decided to stay at a distance, but returned the smile. It didn't look quite right, but Gerry still felt encouraged. It was better than the wide, scared eyes.

  
  


They had been eating in silence for a moment, Michael apparently overcoming his initial distrust of the pizza. He was still eating slowly, gingerly, like it might disappear if he tried too hard. But he was eating and for now that was enough for Gerry. It was a start. He didn't really know what to do to proceed.

He was wondering whether Michael had done any groceries since he came back when the other man spoke up, voice barely over a whisper, as if speaking more to himself than anyone, "I used to...I used to be afraid of...this."

Gerry's attention focused back on him as Michael mumbled that at the slice of pizza in his hand, "Of...pizza?", Gerry asked dumbly before completely processing his words. 

Michael blinked, shocked, and maybe surprised that Gerry had heard him at all. Then he smiled softly, barely noticeable, and Gerry was sure he would have missed it had he not been staring at Michael intently when he did. It make Gerry’s cheeks heat up, making the stupidity of his question really sink in. But the fact that it made Michael smile was worth the embarrassment.

Michael's voice was soft when he spoke up again, "No. I...I used to...my memories wouldn't add up...o-or disappear. Or sometimes...I would confuse them with dreams.", he ran one hand through his hair and got stuck in the matted strands, making a grimace as he had to pull to get his fingers out again. "I was afraid...used to be afraid that maybe one day...I couldn't trust...myself?", his voice was a broken whisper by the end. 

Gerry's brows furrowed, a cold realisation creeping up at that, "That's why she chose you."

Michael shrugged weakly.

"I wouldn't put it beyond Gertrude.", Gerry mumbled through gritted teeth. 

Michael straightened up suddenly, eyes clearing slightly, "Have you seen her? Is she...can she get through the work on he-her own? She sh...should have found a replacement, I told her!", he hesitated at that last part, eyes losing focus again and voice more uncertain as he added, "I think…"

Gerry looked at him with a mixture of confusion and surprise. Of course, Michael Shelley would be worried about Gertrude. She sent him through personal hell, and he was worried she might be overwhelmed by work without the help of her assistant. Gerry was fairly sure that woman couldn't be overwhelmed by anything, and even if she could it was a ridiculous thing to worry about after what she'd done. 

Gerry's blood was boiling by now, set into motion with Gertrude’s curt tone as she explained where Michael was and only getting worse as he saw the state in which the man was. And the new knowledge that she sent him into the hallway probably well aware it'd hit him even harder than stepping into the Distortion’s realm already did wasn't helping. Gerry wanted to punch something. And he wanted Michael to worry about himself for once.

"She's fine, Michael.", he mumbled, doing his best to swallow his anger so Michael couldn't misinterpret it as being directed at him, "Don't worry."

Michael squinted at him, trying to determine whether he could trust what Gerry was saying. However, while doing so his face became blank again, and Gerry assumed he had probably lost track of the conversation. He sighed, as Michael looked at his plate, disoriented. 

They finished eating after Michael found his way back. He looked satisfied, but confused about what to do next.

Gerry spoke up gently, "I'll clean up, you should take a shower. Your hair is probably going to have to be cut if you don't take care of it soon."

Michael looked shocked, eyes clear and big, if only for a blink of a moment. Gerry chuckled, though his laughter died on his lips as he watched Michael's face revert back to his lost expression. After a moment of looking unsure what to do, Michael finally rose from his chair. He looked at Gerry, searching. Gerry wasn't sure what for, but he nodded reassuringly. Michael gave a short, nervous smile before walking towards the bathroom, steps hesistant. After he disappeared from Gerry’s view, Gerry got up himself to clean up. 

He didn't know what to do with the whole situation. Michael was a mess and Gerry wasn't sure how he could help. He sighed, as he started cleaning up the dishes.

Gerry was looking through the fridge when he heard shuffling steps approaching behind him. There wasn’t much there and Gerry was making a mental grocery list. Except he himself did groceries so seldomly he was wondering what exactly to get.

“Gerry?”, came Michael’s voice, laced with the uncertainty that seemed to never leave now.

Gerry turned around to Michael standing in the door to the kitchen, freshly showered and changed, hair dripping unto the floor and into his clothes. He was squinting at Gerry again, surprised.

“You’re..still here.”, he whispered.

Gerry nodded, “And you’re dripping on the floor. You should dry your hair or you’ll catch a cold.”, he added. At least he distantly remembered his father saying something like that, once. 

“I thought...I thought you’d be gone.”, Michael said, cleary in awe at the fact that Gerry was, in fact, not gone.

Gerry looked Michael directly in the eyes, hoping that it would help him understand, “I’m not going anywhere, Michael.”

Michael’s brows furrowed. He looked sceptical, but also somewhat hopeful. Gerry wondered if he was trying to keep himself from believing it so it wouldn't be as bad if it turned out to be wrong. The idea made Gerry's chest tighten.

“I’ll help you.”, Gerry added, walking towards Michael, slowly. Michael froze and Gerry came to a stop, holding out his hand, “Okay?”, Gerry asked, softly.

Michael’s eyes moved to look at his hand. He was pondering if it was even worth trying to take it. Sometimes things ceased being when he tried to reach out to them. He didn’t want Gerry to go. Then again, they usually disappeared as soon as he turned around, too. Gerry was still in the same place as he had been when Michael went to take a shower. Like he was real.

Tentatively, Michael reached out. Gerry’s hand was dry, but warm. It felt like it was there. Michael’s fingers closed around it, clinging to it, as if that could keep it there, keep it from being gone as soon as Michael dared to blink. It would be gone. He was sure. But apparently not now, as Gerry took his hand and walked with him to the bathroom. 

When Gerry let go of Michael's hand, Michael made a small noise of protest. Gerry turned to look at him at that, and gave him a small, amused smile. It was gone in a moment, but Michael was struck by how _right_ it looked. That wasn’t something he’d felt in a long time, and it made him want Gerry to continue looking at him like that. Instead, the goth took the towel Michael had hung up moments before.

“I need to comb it first.”, Michael suddenly remembered, a vague idea of how this used to work surfacing as he self-consciously brought a hand to his hair.

Gerry bit his lip, his brows drawing together as he eyed Michael’s hair. He wasn’t sure if it could be combed by now. Certainly not by Michael himself.

“Where’s the comb?”, he asked.

Michael pointed at the shelf next to the sink and Gerry quickly found the wide-toothed comb and took it. 

“Sit down.”, he said as he turned back towards Michael.

Michael looked up at Gerry confused after he was already sitting, his body reacting before his tired brain processed the order. “Why?”, he asked.

A small grin spread on Gerry’s lips and Michael’s heart jumped a little, “You haven’t really looked at your hair in the mirror, have you? There’s no way you can comb that out yourself.”

Michael blushed, mumbling, "I haven't...have not looked...in mirrors."

Gerry nodded, stepping up behind Michael. It made sense. Gerry avoided mirrors when he knew he looked like a mess, too. It was always unpleasant to be forced to actually look at it. 

Gerry, while being confident in what he said, didn’t know if he would do a much better job combing through the hair. He had wondered, distantly, how Michael’s hair would feel whenever he watched the other man brushing loose strands behind his ear, something he did a lot during work or when nervous. Gerry hadn’t expected to find out in a situation like this. 

“I’ll help you, okay?”, he asked because Michael was giving him a wary look and Gerry didn’t know if he understood what Gerry was trying to do. Gerry himself wasn’t too sure about it, either. _Was_ he helping?

Michael carefully nodded and Gerry brought the comb to his hair. Some of the matted spots seemed to have dissolved in the shower, but much of the usual curls were tangled and looked like small bird’s nests. Gerry went to work, trying his best to avoid pulling. 

Gerry felt awkward. He understood now, why the hairdresser stereotype was that they were chatty. Not that Gerry could say anything about its accuracy, he’d never been, but combing somebody’s hair in utter silence certainly felt like a thoroughly awkward endeavour to Gerry, and he doubted he’d feel any better if Michael were a stranger to him. At the same time. Gerry didn’t know what to say. He had never been one for smalltalk and was afraid to freak Michael out on accident. Michael was starting to relax slowly, but he did not want to take the risk. So he ended up working in silence, using his fingers for particularly bad spots, apologising when he still ended up pulling.

Michael didn’t even flinch, enjoying the feeling of Gerry’s hand after a while, when it seemed highly unlikely that he might start hurting him. It was soothing and he was feeling the exhaustion from weeks spent mostly awake sink into his bones. Distantly, Michael knew that he should blush. Gerry’s fingers in his hair had been something his thoughts had gone to a lot when his daydreams were still coherent and not _wrong_. It was a memory of a memory, however, just outside his reach, and he was too tired for it to truly reach him. Too tired and too warm, the kind of comfortable warmth he also vaguely remembered, as if it wasn’t really his own memory. For all he know it wasn’t. Even the occasional pulling didn’t bother him. The pain was making this situation feel more real. And Michael desperately wanted it to be.

When Gerry was done with combing, Michael’s hair was nearly dry and, while Gerry's arms weren’t necessarily hurting, he certainly felt his muscles. When he put the comb back, Michael sighed and when Gerry looked at his face his eyes were barely open and his whole body looked like he was about to melt against the wall. Gerry smiled a little. He at least seemed to have helped with relieving some of the tension. 

Gerry helped him up and Michael learned against him, closing his eyes. Gerry awkwardly put one hand on Michael's shoulder to steady him, blushing slightly at the sudden closeness. 

"I think you need to go to bed…", Gerry whispered.

Instantly, Michael shot up, scrambling away from Gerry and nearly stumbling in his hurry. His eyes were terrified and pleading as he looked back at Gerry.

"No.", he whimpered, "Please not..sleep brings me back t-there. ", his shoulders were starting to shake again, hands clenching. This time he flinched as his nails broke skin again. "And I never know...it’s never quite...right, the dreams...memories. I don't...don’t know. I never...I don't know i-if I...if I'm really... _out_."

Gerry swallowed, "Okay, okay.", he waited for Michael's breathing to calm down slightly before continuing, "Let treat your hands, okay?", he stepped forward, and when Michael didn't recoil, Gerry gently took his fists, prying Michael's fingers open again. 

Michael stared at the bloody half moons on his palm. He barely felt them anymore, but watching fresh blood well up still made him feel sick. Michael wondered, distantly, if he had felt like this about blood before. Gerry sat him down again, and Michael didn't protest, eyes still fixed on his hands. Sometimes, they looked _wrong_. Michael didn't know when that was the case anymore.

Gerry had caught sight of the first aid kit earlier and it took him little time to find what he needed. Michael let him clean the wounds and, in the hope of protecting them from Michael's nails reopening them as easily, Gerry decided to bandage them. Michael watched him intently as he worked.

Gerry gently ran his thumbs over his finished work, "Alright.", he looked at Michael again. He looked beyond tired. "Do you...you should try to give your body some rest.", Michael tensed visibly again, "You don't need to sleep.", Gerry specified, despite Michael very obviously being in great need of sleep, "Just..lay down for a bit. Please? You look exhausted."

Michael looked alarmed at the prospect of lying down, but nodded warily after a moment. Gerry helped him up again, but this time, he simply stayed where he was, watching Gerry, waiting. Gerry wasn't sure for what.

"Uh...I don't know...where the bedroom is.", he decided to point out, in case Michael was waiting for him to lead him there. 

Michael nodded after a moment, cheeks going slightly pink as he apologised. He gingerly took Gerry’s hand, surprised to find it felt just like it had earlier. He clutched it and left the bathroom. 

There was hesitation as Michael reached out to open the bedroom door, but he couldn't quite hold on to what it was that was making him hesitate. Hesitation had become a central aspect of Michael's everyday life now. But usually, its source was somewhere in his mind, a suggestion of an explanation - or lack thereof - to be wary. Maybe he was tired to reach it this time. Maybe it had changed. Things had changed a lot, Michael thought, not sure what exactly had changed and what had stayed the same. He shook his head and decided to open the door before getting lost in his head again. Gerry squeezing his hand gently helped him stay in the moment, focused on the door before him. 

The room was a mess and Michael suddenly remembered, only for a moment, the source of his apprehension. He mumbled an apology, feeling his face heat up as Gerry took in the room, the clothes and stray books on the floor, the chair, the table. Nervously, he watched Gerry’s face, expecting it to turn into an expression of disgust or at least some form of judgement. Althought he wasn't sure why, anymore. Instead, Gerry gave Michael a nervous smile himself as he pulled Michael towards the bed. 

Gerry helped him into the bed, movements stiff. It had been a very, very long time since he had been tucked in himself and it was an uncomfortable experience with Michael's cloudy eyes following his every movement.

And then Michael was lying in bed, worrying his lip as he looked at Gerry, "Are you...leaving?"

He'd been wondering that himself. Gerry hadn't intended to stay. He had work waiting for him at home. At the same time he of course hadn't imagined Michael being in this state. He didn't want to leave him alone like this, certainly not when he could see the panic underneath the nervous, hopeful look currently directed at him. Gerry couldn’t leave Michael like this.

He shook his head, "Not if you don't want me to."

"I don't.", Michael said so quickly it made Gerry smile. 

Gerry nodded and walked around to the other side of the bed, slipping in next to Michael. It was a tight fit, since both weren't on the small side while the bed was, but after some shuffling they managed to find a comfortable position that worked for both.

Gingerly, Michael started to lean his head on Gerry’s shoulder, stopping in his tracks to look up at him first, "May I…?"

"Of course.", Gerry mumbled, wrapping one arm around the other man and pulling him closer.

Michael sighed contentedly as he brought one of his hands to rest over Gerry's heart. It was beating quickly and Michael was afraid Gerry would remove the hand when he covered it with his own. Instead, he simply left it there, drawing small circles on Michael's wrist. His other hand, resting against Michaels back, started to rub circles into it. Michael hummed softly, feeling his eyelids getting heavier and heavier. 

He stared at their hands on Gerrys torso, trying hard to focus so he wouldn't slip into sleep. But he was so tired that his eyes kept fluttering close and he had to force them open in a panic. He was surprised to find Gerry next to him every time he opened them again.

"I can wake you up if you start having a nightmare, Michael.", Gerry whispered, brushing Michaels hair out of his face, "You can try to get a little bit of sleep."

Michael let out something akin to whimper, but his eyes fell close again. He struggled to open them again, feeling himself slipping. Gerry's fingers brushing through his hair only made it harder and, soon enough, Michael lost the fight against sleep. He nuzzled Gerry’s shoulder as sleep finally took him.

Gerry watched Michael sleep closely, feeling a bit odd about it. But it was the easiest way to not miss any sign of discomfort that could indicate Michael's dream might be going bad. It was weird to look at him from up this close. The exhaustion was smoothed from his features in sleep and he looked so very much as he had the last time Gerry had seen him, over a month ago. Before big, unfocused eyes and constant uncertainty had become a standard on his face. Gerry wondered if he'd ever be able to look like this when awake again.

Gerry did have to wake him up, probably less than two hours later. It was a sudden change, his relaxed face suddenly tensing, the hand on Gerry's chest clenching in the fabric of his shirt. Gently, Gerry shook Michael's shoulders, calling his name. It took a moment until Michael’s eyes finally opened as he sat up quickly. He was panting and shaking and Gerry recognised his expression as one of somebody who hadn't quite shaken the dream off yet. 

Gerry pulled him into a tight hug, "Michael, you're home. Its...it’s okay."

Michael clung to him for dear life, nails burying into Gerry’s arms. Gerry rubbed his back, swaying gently as he continued whispering reassuringly into Michael's hair, one hand combing through the curls, hoping the motion might calm him as it had when falling asleep.

It was minutes, Gerry didn't know how many, until Michael's shaking started to subside. Gerry was basically cradling him in his lap by that point. His neck was moist from the tears Michael had shed against it.

"I'm sorry…", Michael mumbled, detaching his hands from Gerry's arm to try and wipe the tears away.

Gerry shook his head and pushed him away a little, just enough to look into his eyes, "There's nothing you'd have to apologise for.", he said, firmly, brushing Michael’s hair out of his face with both of his hands and cradling Michael’s face, gently brushing the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs. He gave Michael a small smile and felt the blush creep up Michael's cheeks before he saw it. It made his smile widen and Michael returned with his own, shaky one. 

"Do you want to get up again?", Gerry asked.

Michael thought about it for a moment, but shook his head, "Can..I st-...can we stay like this?", he whispered.

"Of course.", Gerry smiled, pulling Michael back against him so his head rested against his chest. 

Michael buried his face in Gerry’s shirt, shuffling a bit to find a comfortable position. He took Gerry’s hand again, squeezing it. Gerry pressed his lips against Michaels hair, sighing.

They stayed like that for a moment before Michael spoke up again, "Could you...talk? Before I...f-fall asleep again."

"Hm...what about?", Gerry mumbled, squeezing Michael's hand back. 

"Doesn't...matter. Your day?", he mumbled.

Gerry took a moment to remember his day before he started to recount it as he absent mindedly played with Michael's hair. He tried to remember as many details as he could so he wouldn’t run out of things to say too soon. 

Michael listened attentively, careful to keep his eyes open and his mind in the present. It was difficult, as Gerry’s voice was soothing, his body warm under Michael’s. It made him feel safe, a dangerous illusion. It was tempting to just fall asleep again. But Michael knew that wasn't a good idea, and so he help on, tightening his grip on Gerry's hand whenever he felt himself slipping again.

Gerry spent hours talking about whatever. His day turned into his week, into his month and, after a while, he simply was talking about random things that came to mind, not really listening to himself anymore. Instead, he listened to Michael, the small sighs and shaky breaths that’d escape the man helping Gerry to carry on, reminding him why he was forcing himself to talk. He wasn’t much of a talker, normally. He was fairly sure that he had never spoken this much in his life, which was probably one of the reasons why, as the sky outside the bedroom window started to brightened, his throat was raw and his voice started coming out rough. 

Michael turned around slightly to look up at him then, "Do you want a....c-cup of tea?"

Gerry had lost count of the times Michael had asked him that exact question before and he smiled at the familiarity as he answered, "Sure."

It took a moment for them to untangle from each other, and Gerry stretched as he stood. Despite himself not getting any sleep, spending the night in a rather comfortable position still seemed to have given his body the illusion of rest, as he felt somewhat energised. Maybe if he'd spent his restless nights in bed instead of working or sketching he'd be fine without sleep. He decided to put a pin in that for later consideration as he left the room with Michael.

Michael went straight to the water boiler as they came to the kitchen so Gerry simply sat down at the dinner table. As he watched Michael prepare their tea it was hard to tell that anything was wrong. His movements were surer than before, albeit still hesistant, the skittish energy palpable. Michael only looked back to see whether Gerry was really still there once, before he finished preparing the tea. 

Gerry remembered that Michael used to always hum while busy with tea at the Institute. It had always been endearing to Gerry. But he knew he was getting demanding now. The fact that Michael was managing to make tea was already an improvement from what Gerry had arrived to hours ago. He'd take it, with or without the familiar humming.

When the tea was done, Gerry was about to get up to get his own mug but Michael shook his head, taking both mugs into his own hands and walking over. He put the steaming mug in front of Gerry. 

"Thanks", Gerry rasped.

Michael looked at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, "I should be the one...I sh...should...t-thank you."

Gerry reached out and took his hand, squeezing it lightly. Michael gave him a shaky smile in return sitting down across from Gerry at the small kitchen table and wrapping his free hand around his own mug. His other hand he lay on the table with Gerry still holding it. Tentatively, he laced his long fingers together with Gerry's, looking up as if to ask for permission. Gerry hummed approvingly, taking a first sip from his tea and hissing as it burned his tongue. 

Michael couldn't help but chuckle, or giggle rather, at that. Gerry realised then and there how much he had missed the other’s laugh. He squeezed Michaels hand gently one more time. Michael squeezed back.

They sat in silence, with their teas and thoughts, watching as the sky outside the kitchen window slowly grew lighter as dawn gave way to the sunrise. 


End file.
